Alex Krycek In The Missile Silo!
by ExHxK
Summary: A bizarre and surreal story of Alex Krycek's experiences trapped inside of the missile silo by the Cigarette Smoking Man. Maybe the weirdest story you'll ever read? From the episodes Piper Maru and Apocrypha.
1. Segment I: Introduction & Prologue

**THE SUPERB APPENDAGE, THE VIOLATED GIRAFFE & THE SCHIZOPHRENIC CATERPILLAR (THAT COULD ONLY CRAWL BACKWARDS)**

**By Erich H. Krycek**

Introduction

This story is partly my own work, but it also centres around the experiences of Alex Krycek while he was trapped inside of the missile silo in North Dakota. Please Review!

At the time of writing this introduction, I am unsure as to whether or not anything like this has ever been written before. My intention in writing the story was to be very abstract and surreal, creating a plot that makes no sense whatsoever while making complete sense. There is great deal of symbolism in here, much of which I even have no idea what it means. The ideas and events came to me in short "visions". Others are loosely based off dreams I've had.

However strange some of the occurrences in the story are, I can ensure you that there is meaning and plot behind them. It's just a matter of deciphering what I've written by analyzing it and taking it for what it's worth. Even when considering the details that I have no idea of the exact meaning, I know that there is meaning behind them. They all mean something to me.

That being said, I must note that I was inspired to write this by the works of David Firth and David Lynch. Films and cartoons that have been made in this surreal kind of format have worked, and I was compelled with wonder on if the same effect could work in written short story format.

Prologue

A magnificent horizon spawning much color was the glory of the night. It was void of any fogged defect; cloudless and brilliant. The moon was but half full, lacking superstition and fright. The stars; plentiful and bright. They twinkled like glorified gems which would never be thwarted.

Underneath were the endless plains which were untainted. They were smooth with not even a tree or flower in sight. The grass was a beautiful green which demanded existence alone in its own right.

Standing on these plains was Alex. He was bare naked like a baby, moving not a muscle. Instead he remained frozen, staring up at a star which was abnormal in size. He was awaiting his boss whom he had to report to and explain his own certain inequities.

The abnormal star demanded to be seen, like gold amongst silver dollars. No star had appeared so massive in many generations. It was the pride of the night.

The enormous star suddenly began to move. Then Alex started to blink. Slowly the star seemed to gain much more mass, as it sped to the right and to the left, nearly faster than the eye could see. It was coming towards the Earth, getting lower and lower to the ground.

Continuing this phenomenal activity, the moving star finally settled not far above the grass. It was pure white and turned the night nearly into day, almost blinding Alex as he squinted his eyes. The star was like a sphere and had a span of two meters.

Alex prostrated himself to the star, bowing down to it as if it were a king. Then it underwent a transformation. Slowly it morphed, taking human form. The brightness was no more, and the star was now an elderly man with gray hair. The man was dressed in a navy blue business suit with a red tie. He puffed on a cigarette which had once been a burning spark.

"I... I...," stuttered Alex. "I know that I've offended you. But please... p-please. It will not happen again."

"No it will not," replied the man. "For I am sending you away so that you may learn your lesson. How dare you **_trespass_** me!"

Alex began to whimper. Then he grabbed hold of the man's pants and hugged them close. However, the man with the cigarette did not like beggars.

"No!" screeched Alex. "Don't do this!"

"You were warned of this," the man remarked. "And now you have nothing to answer for. How do you justify your actions?"

The man took another drag off his cigarette and grimaced as he waited for Alex's answer. It was an answer which Alex could not give.

"Goodbye, Alex," said the man. "Have fun."

Neither of the two men said anything more. In a heartbeat, both vanished from the plains, out of sight. Now only the crickets could be heard. Even they could not imagine the place where Alex had vanished to. Oh how he wished that he was still on the grass with them!

The plains remained peaceful for a short period with no one around to disturb it. Then a small breeze blew through the land, brushing along the grass. A screeching sound could be vaguely heard aways away. It sounded like a bird being slaughtered.

Some of the curious crickets followed the haunting sound for miles. The irritating noise was coming not from a bird, but from an old and battered metal sign which stood out of the ground creaking in the wind.

The sign was not located perched on any grass, instead it was in snow. An improbable and sudden divide occurred between the grass and the snow. The snow was on one side, but not the other. There was no balance. Even the sky was divided between night and day. The night was contrasted to the day, and the day to the night. There was not a blend of light, instead a sudden burst. The grass had the night, and the snow had the day. However, the day was not beautiful like the night, instead it was clouded and diluted.

Just centimeters away from the land divide the wobbling sign was perched. Written in shiny red letters were the words:

"AUTHORIZED PERSONAL ONLY - VIOLATORS WILL BE PROSECUTED - N_O**TRESPASSING**_"


	2. Segment II: The Red And The Black

Segment II:

The Red And The Black

The schizophrenic caterpillar that could only crawl backwards wiggled along the snowy land. Its body bobbled together in segments, each of them furry, in a pattern of black and then red. Upon dirt mounds, cliffs, and mountains the schizophrenic caterpillar had crawled. The ambition of adventure was what this tiny monstrosity had throughout its short lifespan, and surely its presence was felt wherever it went. Nothing was more cunning.

Walking backwards was the schizophrenic caterpillar's only choice of travel. It was an awkward form of movement causing the tiny, panicked insect to have to look behind its bobbling body of six segments upon every step. All twenty six shaky, black legs moved independently and lethargic.

The face of the schizophrenic caterpillar was also black, looking both soft and disturbing. It had a cute fuzziness to it, but the almost unnoticeable pure black eyes were beady and ugly. The schizophrenic caterpillar's teeth were stuck on the outside of its face, giving the illusion of a devilish smile. Two transparent tentacles were on the top of the head and they had the uncanny habit of changing colors like a chameleon.

A dismal and cloudy spring sky which obscured most of the sun loomed over the schizophrenic caterpillar. The snow was melting and uncovered the dead grass underneath. This allowed a bath for the small bug-eyed beast.

Drenched in cold, dirty, melted snow, the schizophrenic caterpillar continued to roam the plains in search of a home. Despite only being granted the gift of walking backwards, the sheepish bug was able to move faster than any other caterpillar. Walking backwards was no disability to this bug. If it was, it was a disability that it adapted to without any strife. None the less, there was something quite impractical about such a frail creature that could move so fast while walking in reverse.

Hidden in camouflage amongst the snow were hundreds of small identical buildings with antennas on the top of each of them. They stood out of the ground barely three feet, gray and faded.

The plains were loaded with these unfitting buildings which were too tiny at glance for a person to even lie down inside. They had no doors, nor any sort of entrance. Giant vents spread out to the side of each of them, and each building had some sort of hole on the top which were boarded up. Old chimneys perhaps?

Nearby there were also unpaved dirt roads which lead to each of the buildings, but there were no people in sight, nor any other creature. Clearly the area was abandoned. A barbed wire fence enclosed the entire plain which had to occupy something like ninety-nine acres.

One larger gray building was in the center of this land. The schizophrenic caterpillar had figured it must be the entrance to a giant underground complex considering that it had a door which was moldy and stained from the many winters. The key hole to the door dangled, broken from having been previously dislocated by an unknown vandal.

The disgruntled insect dragged its body backwards on top of one of the many short and out of place buildings. Crawling backwards up the wall to get on top was a picnic since the wall was not big in length. Once on top, the schizophrenic caterpillar used its front legs to feel and examine the roof which was smooth like a metal. Then the caterpillar excreted some tiny feces which were green like a bizarre casserole. Then it was nap time.

Getting to sleep on top of the building proved to be a challenge. A mild wind was beginning to come in, which ripped at the schizophrenic caterpillar's face and started to freeze the wet fur on its body like a Popsicle.

The entire landscape of this peculiar land was musty and deserted. A pin could be heard dropping even onto the snow. The laws of physics seemed to not apply in this place as there was no sound even when the wind blew. This was certainly a haunting effect to a regular caterpillar, but not to this one. The schizophrenic caterpillar was always sheepish, but this place was home.

The sight of the surroundings were almost like an optical illusion. There was a sense of a sad reality when looking at the sky or the ground, but also an unreality which was incomprehensible. Intelligent species certainly had not been in this place for a long time, but if they were, no one could explain why it was so unsettling despite being very real. The crooked landscape was dry and rough. The strange buildings were obtuse to the eye.

A fair comparison of high voltage could be made to the amount of brain power the eccentric caterpillar used trying to decipher what his surroundings were, even inside of its own minuscule brain. He was intrigued; and enlightened. Perhaps this was a bomb shelter zone? The entrance to an underground city? A forgotten rocket launch pad?

Finally having dosed off, the schizophrenic caterpillar had no idea what lay underneath him - underneath the building it slept upon. What was underneath was the most lonely and disturbing place in the world.

Eight stories below the structure which the schizophrenic caterpillar slept upon, deep into the ground, was a wide and hollow vertical tube. The interior of the cylinder was painted blacker than the night. The only light which was allowed in was from round ventilation channels which extended to the ground. This light from the day was not good light. It reflected into the circler chamber as round, white beams which peered into the tube like a bastardized invasion of privacy. There were ten of these round ventilation channels for each of the eight levels of the tube. They were spread out evenly on the wall, illuminating a symmetrical glow.

The inside of this black cylinder was worse than a jail which would imprison a war criminal. It was greasy and dirty, which made home to rats that would crawl through the ventilation shafts. Even they were desperate for food, which could be found regularly when stumbling upon one of their own.

There was a big red door inside of the vertical tunnel, at the very bottom of course. It was a faded red made out of bullet proof steel. It was a useless piece of junk which could only be opened from the other side. There was a tiny window in the center which was also bullet proof and double layered, with wire mesh in between.

This cell was by no means vacant of humanity. Alex was there; starving and deserted.

Alex had no recollection of how he had arrived in this place, or what was above. He did not know the schizophrenic caterpillar. The entire radius of the surrounding land and its inner secrets were a home to the caterpillar, but not to him.


	3. Segment III: The Big Day

Segment III:

The Big Day

Is all Alex knew was that he had been in this place for days, or possibly weeks. His memory was faded; lost beyond the abyss. There was only one thing echoing through Alex's mind.

"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME! NO! NOOO! COME AND HELP ME! HELP ME!"

Those were his own words which seemed to still be bouncing off the wall. He had spent hours upon hours pounding on the door begging for help, but no one could hear him. Eight stories above, not even the schizophrenic caterpillar could. Nor was it listening. Alex's own intuition told him that no one could hear. That made him scream even louder, as ironic as it was.

The more he'd scream, the more that fear overcame him. When his ears received his horrific yelps, he'd panic all the more. Then he would begin to cry, and beg.

It felt like the rats themselves had been scraping up the insides of his throat. His entire face burned. His eyes; groggy and red-veined. He could feel his stomach gargling up all the fat and muscle it could.

Alex could no longer stand, his feet throbbing from having stood so long pounding at the door. He sweat as he did so, peering out the tiny window seeing nothing but a narrow, unlit hallway which expanded into infinity, ending in darkness.

The best Alex could figure was that the hallway led to other rooms exactly like this one. A boring concept which caused him to begin chuckling as he sat perched against the door. He didn't know why he was laughing so hard, but continued to, until tears came from his eyes.

He had already tried breaking down the door, but to no avail. He had tried everything, including putting his fist inside one of the three-inch air holes a long the wall and attempt to stretch his whole body through in that fashion. This place was sealed tight, locked from the inside.

Not much hope was left. He did not want to continue living, yet thirst did not stop himself from licking water off the ground which had dripped down into the vents from the melting snow above. A few pebbles from the dirty ground ended up going down his throat, into his stomach. Perhaps they satisfied his hunger just a bit.

At this rate he could survive a few weeks more at best... an idea which frightened him all the more. Death had to come sooner or later. It felt like a rusty blade had been dragged through his brain because of the way the censors of his nostrils were completely destroyed from the stench of old urine and feces which he had released at one end of the cell. However, there was not enough replenishment available for him to have to relieve himself again.

Developing claustrophobia, Alex spent the better part of his days trying hard not to scream more than he did while pounding on the door. He was afraid of rupturing his lungs and causing himself to cough up blood like he already did once before. The nights in this hell hole were damp and cool. The days were dry and humid. Frustrating. In this enclosed living space he was nothing more than a bean inside of a tin can.

Being deep down underground, the only way he could tell night from day was from if the light was shining through the ventilation holes which were like the pores of a giant creature which was inverted inside. The nights in this place were the most depressing. He was forced to lie on the hard floor which allowed barely one hour of sleep. Alex could hear sounds which were like that of an old house shuddering; haunting sounds which were from the rats rummaging around.

Alex was not alone in this caged cylinder... he had a cell mate and it was not a living entity. Taking up a good eighty percent of the room was what was like a beige and flat triangular stone. It was rough and edgy with barnacles on it as if it had once been in the sea. It was a dirty and grotesque object which looked like it had been smooth long, long ago, made out of metal perhaps. Now it was filthy, covered in a yellow moss. It had bizarre markings all over its surface as well which looked like ancient inscriptions. What a crafty triangle it was!

The back of the triangle was across from the door of the dank cell. The single point was towards the back of it. This divided the circular prison into three sections of awkward half-circles. One near the door, and two to the side. These were Alex's main living spaces, but he could really only use two of them since he stored his excrements in the left one. He could also crawl on top of the rocky triangle since its sides were slanted, but usually avoided doing this since the surface was like something from a nightmare. Right in the middle of the two horizontal points was the inscription of a circle which spiraled inwards. It was like a device for hypnotism. The entire triangle had the appearance of a secret, experimental aircraft.

Alex wasn't sure if he was suffering from amnesia or not since he had no clue as to how he arrived in this place. He could remember his entire life but could find no reasonable explanation as to what got him here. It was overly probable that he was blocking something out.

He had tried sorting everything out in his head. He came to the conclusion that he had a blackout where the period occurred, however long it was, that he was brought to this place. Then he had another blackout. In between, he had a vague and surreal memory in which he was not control of his own body or mind. He was knelt down upon the triangle, puking out some kind of black ooze. He could still feel the oily and gaseous taste in his mouth. The ooze also poured from his eyes like tears, and all of it gathered together in a group as if it were intelligent, slithering between the spiraling circle and then suddenly disappearing. What could this mean? Alex was still in debate as to whether or not he should discard the memory because of how little sense it made. None the less, what good could thinking about the past do to get himself out of here?

"You fucking asshole," he thought to himself. "How did you get yourself here? Who have you let fuck you up the ass now?"

With nothing more to do, Alex decided to stand up and begin pounding at the door yet again. So he stood, pressing his chest against it. Then he prepared his fists to slam it. He motioned forward and got ready to beg, but something stopped him. He realized just how silly the whole charade was. No one was going to hear. No one was going to come to get him.

In a flash, he thought up a new plan which he had not tried before. He smiled about it, taking a look up at the dark and round ceiling. He had wondered what was up there before. Anything. It looked completely plain and sealed, but it was worth a try, right?

So he positioned himself on top of the triangle which already stood two meters on its own. Walking over to one of the corners, he was able to put one foot inside of an air hole on the wall. Then he stretched his arm and grabbed hold of the air hole above that one. He used one arm with all his might to hoist himself as high as possible, and then have his legs use their muscle to bring himself up further.

It didn't work. He made it upwards not even one story. Instead he slipped, and fell back down onto the triangle head first. He hit his head pretty hard. The surface was like cement. The collision left him comatose.

As he was out, the schizophrenic caterpillar that could only walk backwards watched him from above. It peered down upon him like a curious cat with a vacant expression, looking downwards from one of the round ventilation air holes. However, the inwards of Alex's mind were not vacant.

In a tropical forest, somewhere sacred in the recesses of Alex's mind, the birds chirped and vegetation was plentiful. It was like a garden of hope, colorful and promising. The air was hot but the cool springs which were all over the place made it bearable. It was paradise.

Two parents walked happily along a path which was guarded by flowers of many varieties. The aroma was pleasing to the nostrils, and to the baby which was wrapped in a white blanket. The mother held him in her arms. She looked like Karen Grassle and wore a white blue dress and bonnet. The father wore black overalls and a white dress shirt. He looked like Michael Landon.

It was obvious that the parents were very excited about something. They walked faster upon every step. Their baby was their pride, the blanket over its face so that no bugs could drain blood from him.

As the parents continued walking with their child in their arms, the pathway grew shorter. Finally the ending could be seen ahead which coincided with the uncanny presence of a train track. A fair space had been cleared all around for this track.

The train track was rusted and decrepit. It certainly took beauty away from the tropical forest. Some of the tracks were even out of proportion and dislodged.

Just as the parents arrived at the track, the sound of a train could be heard coming from the left. It whistled along, sounding like an elephant. What was it doing in this tropical forest?

Alex was on the opposite side of the track, dazed and confused. His eyes were groggy and he was dizzy. Yet that did not stop himself from caring for the parents who were about to walk onto the track.

"Stop!" he cried to them. "Look out!"

The parents were not displeased by the oncoming train. They stopped and smiled at one another and the father took hold of the baby. He removed the shawl and touched the baby's face with his index finger. But the baby was not normal. It was the schizophrenic caterpillar that could only crawl backwards, and it was the size of a baby. Its devilish smile greeted its father.

"Well junior," the father said. "Today's your **_big day_**! I know you won't let us down!"

"You're my brave little boy," declared the mother.

Then the parents sat the head of their giant deformed caterpillar baby down on the tracks. It's snake-like body perched over the side, wiggling just a bit.

The train then came roaring around the corner from the left. It was big and red and scared all the birds away, moving at top speed.

The conductor was a husky man with a gray beard and crooked yellow teeth. His train teetered through the broken tracks, nearly falling off them. He saw the caterpillar baby's head on the tracks and he also saw the parents. He gave them a friendly smile and waved.

"First time!" he yelled in a Southern American accent.

"Yes!" the parents hollered back, waving him off.

The train did not slow down as it approached the head of the schizophrenic caterpillar. Instead it continued on. The caterpillar struggled for its life but the blanket which was still wrapped around its body prevented movement.

"Nooooo!" shouted Alex on the top of his lungs.

Again he was ignored. Alex could not comprehend any explanation for as to why the parents might be so enthusiastic... truly he was in the twilight zone.

Finally, the train came to the caterpillar. The head of the insect did not so much as bump the train or shift its movement. The wheels collided with the caterpillar's head as easy as a knife through butter. They did not completely take the head off and instead ground through only the top half, leaving the back of the head and the mouth alone. The tiny bug's face wore down as mushy orange blood and guts like from a pumpkin stained everything, including the parents who stood there cheering.

"That's our man!" hollered the father. "You did it!"

"I knew he could do it," claimed the mother. "My darling child!"

With that, Alex blinked and found himself back on top of the flat triangular rock. He was disoriented and had no recollection of the fall he took earlier. Instead he was troubled by a wet feeling on the side of his head. He felt it, discovering blood coming from his right ear and a bump like a camel's on the back of his head. Some of the blood was hardened and brown. He was in a pool of it and the triangular rock drenched in it like a mud puddle. The blood poured from his ear like a leaky faucet.

Alex shuddered suddenly with a strange feeling that he was being watched. He jolted and turned around, so dizzy that he nearly fell off the triangular rock. When he looked up, there was nothing there. The schizophrenic caterpillar had vanished.

Once again realizing the reality of where he was, he moaned. After the moan came a loud and nauseating cough. With the cough came a tiny moth out of his mouth. How it got inside of his lungs, he didn't know, and didn't care. Instead he watched it spiral up the long and wide cylinder like tornado.


	4. Segment IV: Bad Skin

Segment IV:

Bad Skin

Alex spent the next week still trapped inside of this ugly place, a long with the rocky triangle and his battered, bloodied, bruised head. The schizophrenic caterpillar made a tendency to pear down upon Alex and watch over him while he wasn't looking. The caterpillar was fascinated with the sufferings of this man and was repaid for this evil curiosity by having to dodge rats who would try to eat him in the ventilation tunnels.

Dried brown blood had now stained the top of the rocky triangle. Alex had no means to wash the blood off himself either. He was filthy and developed some kind of rash, specifically on his face. He spent the majority of his days scratching at this irritation and developed a strong hate for his skin.

No longer did Alex bang at the door, screaming and pounding for help. He was too tired. Too exhausted. Too hungry. Too cold. The only thing left to do was day dream.

One day he developed an erection out of no where and decided to masturbate. A perfect way to pass the time.

"Yes," he thought to himself. "No matter how deep you're in, you can always have a good wank."

He perked himself against the door of the cylinder and began to bring himself off with his left hand. What a **_superb appendage_** it was.

Slowly Alex slipped into serenity and he watched his hand morph into a beautiful blond woman. Marita. The woman he was in love with. She was a friend of his, but she also worked with that cigarette-smoking bastard who had trapped him in this hole.

There in the damp, smelly cell, Marita and Alex made love. She glided on top of him with angel wings and a silver silk gown. Alex's left hand had become her, and his arm had morphed around her anus, the hand stuck up it, as if she were a puppet. She gave him the experience of a life time... one which he would never forget. Alex would make a habit out of this.

On another occasion, he became so hungry that he decided to retreat to the portion of the cylinder which he usually did not occupy. There he found food within his fecal excrements. A nutritious but bitter snack; rations which did not last long.

But these rations were toxic and caused vomiting. The vomit was too dank and slimy for him to ever re-consume. Instead it left an even worse stench. Alex learned his lesson that meals could not be recycled.

As he settled off for a nap, the schizophrenic caterpillar watched him from above. That was when Alex was interrupted by a disturbing noise. It was coming from the rocky triangle.

"Join usssss," "Join usssss". The words were barely words. More like a deep echo that had been traveling for eons. Alex could not ignore this. The sound continued and he followed it to the back of the triangle which was propped against part of the cylinder. He squeezed into the tiny section and discovered something which was not there before. There was an open crack on the side of the triangle, with the numbers "three", "eight", and "two" written above it. Alex looked inside of the crack and saw pure blackness. The numbers three, eight, and two captivated him.

"Join usssss," "Join usssss". The sounds continued. They were coming from inside of the crack. Realizing this, Alex decided to crawl inside of the triangle through the crack. He barely squeezed through.

Something like an eternity passed for Alex until he woke up inside of the triangle. He had passed out again. When he awoke there, he found himself in a new world. There was a red sky, thick and cloudy. It was more red than blood. The ground was pure dirt, darker than a black sky.

This was certainly a weird place to be in, but it did not bother him. He was now all too familiar with the bizarre. Instead he got up to walk around. He looked back and saw the crack sticking up in the middle of the air for if he were to escape. The hole just hovered there, making little sense. Alex was inside of the rocky triangle! But obviously this was no enclosed space at all. It was a whole new adventurous, but haunting world!

Alex giggled to himself about this new, unexplored place. That's when he smelled the aroma of cooked meat. He followed it down a path which had been made by being trampled on. But whatever had crossed this place before was not human. There were tracks, and they looked to be from a pack of bears.

So he followed the tracks further to the smell of the cooked meat. Eventually he saw something up a head. Upon arrival he discovered a black and white panda bear, standing upright eating the drum stick of a turkey. The red mist from the sky loomed over the panda bear and collided with the smoke from the turkey.

"Join usssss," "Join usssss," the panda bear murmured.

Alex payed no attention. Is all he could think about is getting a piece of the turkey to fill the void in his stomach.

"Might I have some turkey?" he asked.

"Yes," answered the panda bear. "But first you must join usssss."

"Three Eight Two, Three Eight Two," he answered back. "I have to find out about Three Eight Two."

That's when the both of them heard a scream. A scream of pain? A scream of joy? They couldn't tell. Alex twisted his head to the left and that's when he saw it. Put off to the side were a group of skinny gray humanoid creatures which were crucified to wooden crosses. Green blood streamed down from their wounds and they all let out wails, possibly not of pain, but of ecstasy. Their heads were big and oval shaped. They had tiny mouths and large black eyes. No nose holes seemed present on their peculiar faces.

Alex was troubled by these creatures suffering on their crucifixes. His fear intensified as more panda bears approached. The panda bears were not troubled. They just stood there staring onward at them, eating their turkey drum sticks.

"You did this to them, didn't you!" cried Alex.

"But of course we did," declared the first panda bear in a deep eccentric voice.

"YESSSSS!!!!!" wailed one of the gray creatures abstractly. "You see, we are from another planet and we hate skin. We came here and ordered the panda bears to skin us alive. Those of us which cannot tolerate the procedure are punished on these crucifixes! It is our way."

"They sure are racist aliens, aren't they," said the panda bear as he choked on some of his turkey. "They hate skin of all kinds! They let us keep ours in exchange for this favor." Then he pointed to the right where there were a group of more of these aliens. Except, these ones had no skin. They were bare, and their ribs and bones showed. Green blood fell from bits of their bones like small water falls. Only their big and black eyes were identifiable and similar to the grays. Their white bones looked like breakable Styrofoam.

The first panda bear whom Alex had spoken to got up and picked a knife off the ground. He walked to the side and bent down to dig into the dirt with his paw. With it, he pulled one of the gray beings out of the ground. With the knife, he stripped the gray being of its skin.

"Orders of the grays themselves," he said. "And to think we get payed to do this!"

Alex began to go dizzy once again. His body swayed to and fro.

"Look!" he stammered. "I have to eat some of your turkey and I have to find out about Three Eight Two!"

"Have you checked your pocket?" asked the panda bear.

Alex put his hand in his left pocket and pulled out a key with the numbers Three Eight and Two on it. He felt the key with his hand and examined it with his eyes. Then the entire setting began to spin before him and he felt like puking. That's when he found himself on a paved road. The red sky was still above him, but the setting had changed. Only the one panda bear stood before him, and there was also a mailbox which had something like one-hundred compartments. They were numbered three-hundred to four-hundred. Alex took the key and opened compartment Three-hundred and Eighty-Two. Inside was a disturbing revelation... his own decapitated head. He felt the urge to remove it from the mailbox, and did just that.

Alex's head still remained attached to his body tightly. But this other head looked exactly like his. Maybe it was. It had been decapitated smoothly and evenly. No blood poured from it.

The panda bear handed the knife to Alex. Upon receiving the knife, he felt another urge. This urge was to be like one of the racist aliens and remove the skin from his own head. So he dug the blade into the loose skin from the decapitated head as if he were carving a pumpkin. Then he plucked the skin up off the head with the knife. Blood poured from the wounds. The skin came off like a rubber Halloween mask. That's when the head, now an oozing skull of blood, blinked. Alex became frightened.

Sometime later he awoke back inside of the jail-like cylinder, outside of the triangular rock. He was soaked in sweat and still frightened. He decided not to return to that place again.


End file.
